


Destiny gets what it Wants. (Even if Jaskier says fuck off)

by felineFatale



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ahahaha I have no idea what i'm doing, I saw a prompt and i decided to do it, Long lived royal family, M/M, Plenty of random ocs, Royal Jaskier/Julian au, all i did was watch the tv show don't kill me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineFatale/pseuds/felineFatale
Summary: Prince Julian's kingdom has been beset by a dangerous monster and since not a single person has been able kill it. In an attempt to save his kingdom, Julian's father has decided to offer his youngest's hand- Julian- in marriage to whosoever kills the Banshee. In comes our favorite witcher- but the story shall still be seen."Don't I even get a say in this?""No, no you do not. Do try to keep your head on."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 62
Kudos: 384





	1. No Say in Anything

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a post by 'b-witchered' on tumblr and a good bit of it is going to be also inspired by 'pleasesupplymewithyourwahoos' and their amazing tags on that post. I haven't tried writing actual fanfiction in years for posting, but I'll do my best! 
> 
> Please don't be horrible to me though huns- any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome though!

In the end, Destiny always gets what it wants.

No matter how badly someone wants to avoid it.

~*~  
“WE CANNOT KEEP LETTING THIS HAPPEN!” King Adverdal hollered, clearly tired and angry as all seven hells combined.

“My Liege, it’s going to be difficult to keep sending out knights to kill this, this Banshee. It’s not going to stop anytime soon.” one of the older advisors began, though he quieted quickly when Adverdal glared at him. “I don’t care how we get it done, we just need to get it done! It’s destroyed seven noble family lines in the past year alone, and who knows when the bitch is going to turn its ire upon my house! I demand a solution, and quickly.” 

The room was silent, the six advisors and four princes sitting around the long meeting room table with drawn looks. “We… could offer a bigger reward?” The eldest prince, Jacobi, offered, though he looked apprehensive at the idea. “What do you suggest then son? What could possibly draw more than being able to ascend to nobility? Nothing is getting it done!”

Jacobi frowned and glanced around the room, eyes settling on his brothers. “Well, other countries have used their royal family’s hands in marriage as incentive. It might work here if you’re willing to try it.”

His three brothers looked uncomfortable, but only one spoke up. “Excuse me? Jacy, what the HELL is wrong with you? Just offering us up like pieces of meat?” the youngest snapped, bolting to his feet and slamming his hands down upon the table. Julian was indeed the youngest, and clearly the most hot headed prince of the lot, barely twenty at this point- not that it mattered in this royal family. Twenty was still nearly a child to their long lived family.

The eldest and youngest glared at each other, their dark eyes meeting beneath identical mops of brown hair. Their brothers- Anthemon and Verion- slowly scooted down in their seats, almost as if trying to hide from the inevitable argument that was coming.

“No Julian, Jacobi has a a point. It is very often that family’s offer their children as rewards. In this case… I have three heirs already who are viable for political marriages. I can sacrifice one of them in the end.” the king sounded thoughtful. It took a few seconds and the implications hit the rest of the room.

“NO!” Julian hollered, face turning red. “You are the youngest prince and haven’t been shy about your…. Taste in partners. Or, in this case, your lack of caring who you bed. Whoever kills the banshee should have no issues with you as their husband- man, woman, or otherwise.” Adverdal nodded and sat down with a final nod. “Its decided then. Whosoever defeats the banshee shall take Prince Julian’s hand in marriage, no matter who it may be. Counsilman Borin, make it so.”  
“Don’t I even get a say in this?” Julian hissed, still standing in place as the rest of the room started to file out. “No. No you do not. Do try to keep your head on.” his father stated with a dry tone as he left the room. Anthemon sighed a little and patted his baby brother on the shoulder as he passed him. “Good luck with whoever it is JuJu. I have no doubt some random person will come about and decline it after they kill the Banshee. You’ll be fine.”

“I bet its some horrible fuck with emotional problems.” Julian muttered angrily.

~*~

A good many leagues away, a white haired man sneezed.


	2. Geralt does something normal (for him)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaahaa, Not much longer than the first chapter but I have two children to attend to- neither over the age of 2- so please be patient with me! Anyway, here we go, with Mr. Constipated emotions himself!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, whoops, its been so long for me I forgot fanfictions needed a disclaimer.
> 
> I DO NOT OWN THE WITCHER IN ANY WAY SHAPE OR FORM. 
> 
> I also have terrible grammar when I'm hungry.

Geralt was travelling, as usual. Obviously, since that was his job for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t particularly paying attention to where he wandered, at the moment he was simply trying to look for a paying job, since he was running low on rations at the moment. Roach might be able to survive on grass and water alone, but even his mutations didn’t give Geralt that ability.

He had been on the road for a good month or so without a monster to hunt, and today he was thinking about just taking a break and looking for menial labor- at least then he’d get food.  
At the moment he was simply riding along a small dirt road, eyes peeled for anything that could be a monstrous being that might need a killing. For right now though, everything seemed- oh, nevermind.

A high pitched screech assaulted Geralt’s ears and Roach reared in dislike- the poor mare had more sensitive hearing that he did after all. The witcher leapt clear of his horse, drawing his silver sword with a grunt and pushing through the bleeding pain in his ears as he looked around. Something lunged at him from a tree on the side of the road, still screeching. It seemed to be a woman, though it was deathly pale with bright otherworldly red-gold eyes and hair blacker than a void of space.

“Fuck.” the man hissed, dodging the wild lunge and glaring at what he assumed was a Banshee- at least that’s what it should be, going off of the screaming and the black open maw that would be its mouth. It- she, he supposed- slashed at him with her talon-like hands, leaving deep scratches on his leather armor across his chest, and Geralt huffed before… well before beheading the damn thing. The entire fight was rather underwhelming.

It was utterly ridiculous that it hadn’t been killed already. Maybe it was a simple matter of nobody else could manage to fight through the pain of having their eardrums nearly shattered by the Banshee’s screams.

Geralt made a sound that was clearly a ‘hm’ as he picked up the severed head and the accompanying body and wrapped it in his cloak before slinging said cloak over Roach, who had returned from her short bolting. Poor girl needed a good meal herself for having to deal with that bullshit.

The horse and her witcher resumed their trotting down the small road, Geralt specifically looking for a town now, since the Banshee had likely caused enough headache to warrant a price on its head. And that meant he got paid for it.

It took a few more hours before the two came across a village- though it had a mid sized castle in the distance once Geralt got into the town itself. The white haired man rode through until he spotted an inn and dismounted before tying Roach to a small railing and heading inside.

The inn quieted quickly once he entered and everyone stopped to stare at him for a few seconds before they returned to their conversations, abet with lowered voices than before. Geralt walked towards the bar and sat down with a low thump. “Mind telling me where I’ve ended up?” he asked, making sure his voice wasn’t louder than the rest of the patrons’.

“Biterion, stranger. Capital city- of sorts- for Tristil KIngdom, ruled by our king Adverdal and his family.” the innkeeper answered as he cleaned off a mug with a rag like an npc in a video game. “Never heard of it.”

“Well we’re a small kingdom. There’s only this town and a smaller village a couple of leagues away from us. And of course the castle itself.” 

Geralt nodded and made a small motion with his hand towards the direction he’d come from via the road. “I came across a Banshee a few hours back- it’s dead now. I assume there was a bounty on it? The creature had plenty of dried blood on its talons.”

The portly man’s eyes went wide and he let out a startled laugh before his eyes focused on the wolf head medallion on Geralt’s chest. “Oh my stars! Yes there was! Three hundred gold, a noble title, and the hand of the royal youngest, Prince Julian! Congratulations Witcher, you’re a lord and soon to be a prince consort!” the innkeep said loudly, and the rest of the patrons looked carefully at Geralt, a new light in their eyes.

“... Excuse me?”

“Oh sir, you most certainly heard what I said!”

“I was hoping you were joking.” Geralt looked rather uncomfortable. He didn’t want a damn noble title, much less a prince for a husband. He wasn’t peculiar about who he bedded, but a spouse? A prince? No thank you!

“Nope!”

“Fuck.”


	3. Mulan moment? Yes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian "the drama boy" Alfred Pankratz has himself a Mulan moment, without singing that is. Yet. Not quite sure how to put in a song just yet.

“FUCK!” 

A particularly angry sounding voice rang out through one of the royal suite’s rooms, specifically the rooms for the two youngest princes. “Calm down JuJu. Gods.” Anthemon seemed a little bored with Julian’s tantrum, lounging on a half sofa with a book while his brother stomped a circuit around the room. Julian was furious with his father still, and for now couldn’t really articulate anything more than curses.

“CALM DOWN?” Julian shrieked, sounding rather like the Banshee that they’d just been informed was dead. Some random person had managed to kill the damn thing and announced it to an entire pub in Biterion- and one of the patrons had rushed to the castle to tell someone. Because of course everyone was so excited!

“Yes, calm down. You don’t even know what he looks like, nor do you know a damn thing about the man. He might be a kind soul an-”

“I have to marry a total stranger Anthy! Why couldn’t father just suck it up and hire one of those Witchers and get it over with!? Instead of just signing away my independence like this??” Julian let out a loud noise that sounded like a cross between a sob and a scream and flopped down on top of his older brother. He wasn’t crying yet, but he sure as hell sounded like he wanted to be at the moment.

“You forget JuJu, the rest of us are going to be used for political marriages as well. None of us are getting married for love at some point, so this isn’t new. It’s just sending you into a fit because you don’t even get to know who it is before you are betrothed.” Anthemon sounded a little tired as he spoke, as if he was explaining this for the nth time- which he was. His brother could be such a drama queen at times. Julian froze and slithered off his brother onto the floor before looking up at the other male. “I.. I know I’m being childish Anthy, but I really just…” Oh and there goes his tears.

The older prince sighed and pulled his brother into a hug. “I understand. We can get through this together ok? After all, if you don’t like the man all you have to do is outlive him!” 

Julian snorted quietly before pulling away and brushing the few small tears from his grey eyes. “Right. Because our lovely family is blessed with unnaturally long lives. Damn those elven ancestors and their fae curses.” The brothers laughed together, as if it was an old joke.

Probably was if we’re being honest.

The older brother managed to slowly calm his baby brother down enough to convince him to wait until meeting the newly made Lord and betrothed before flipping his lid again. It took a good many jokes and a few long moments of pleading looks before Julian promised not to do anything rash and Anthemon left the rooms.

Julian waved his brother out by the door that lead into the hallway with a bright smile- and a twinkle in his eyes that promised havoc sooner than later. He closed the door and then locked it, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.

“Can’t be a rash plan if it’s well thought out and executed, now can it?” he murmured to himself as he rushed about his rooms, collecting as many clothes as he thought he could sneak out in a small bag, along with a knife, a couple different styled hats that wouldn’t be worse for wear by being squished into a bag, and one last thing. His pride and joy, and the one thing his father hadn’t been able to convince him to drop years ago.

A lute.

“Fuck Destiny, right off a cliff.” the young prince hissed to himself, glaring at the looking glass in front of him. His longer hair was down to his shoulders, both a tad shaggy and with plenty of wavy curls. Julian’s lips pinched together as he picked up the knife he would be taking with him and a lock of his hair. “Fuck it.” He whispered once more, trying to steel himself. And with a deep breath, the first lock of curly brown hair dropped to the polished stone floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aahahahaa fuck I had the worst writer's block. Still do if I'm being honest with myself. I've never written a fully realized non-heteromantic ship, and I... well I'm unsure of what I'm doing. So until I figure it out- or get some tips on not to look like I'm an idiot- we get more stalling in the form of worldbuilding and plotbuilding! Yay...
> 
> If anyone who reads would like to suggest any tips on how not to look like a fraud and/or would like to provide tips on what not to do while writing this ship, I'm taking any and all suggestions! Please. Pretty please. I don't wanna fuck this up with my inexperience.


	4. The Windup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a small chapter of rambling while I work through my writers block dears! i know its tiny but I'm working through my writers block to slowly for my comfort, and i don't want to leave the fic sitting for too long

After being informed that he had little choice in the matter of being taken to the castle, Geralt decided that he would at least get his gold before absconding off into the wilderness again. He wanted nothing to do with getting married nor did he give a flying rat’s assed fuck about being handed a lordship.

The innkeep that had informed him of his new ‘status’ insisted on escorting Geralt to the previously mentioned castle, all smiles and happy noises about the ‘future prince consort’. And it seemed, no matter how many times Geralt told him to shove it, nothing was going to shut him up.

“Oh but my lord-”  
“Call me that again and I’m going to stab you.”

Roach made a small noise that could’ve been the rather intelligent horse laughing at her rider’s predicament. And still the innkeeper just smiled brightly. “Ah, my good sir then, please believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about if you are worried about good Prince Julian’s looks or the responsibilities of being a lord. Our prince is a rather lovely young man, long curly hair, bright grey eyes, and knows how to dress properly! As for a lordship, the title is mostly ornamental. We are a small kingdom- the noble families simply have a tiny town of sorts along our borders! We have need of many more nobles now, since the Banshee kept attacking them and wiping them out for some reas-”

“If you value your tongue, you will stop speaking now.” Geralt sounded rather serious, especially with the dark look from his yellow eyes and the harsh gravel in his voice. The innkeep gave a sharp nod and simply smiled again before continuing to walk ahead of Roach. It seemed he had no issue getting her to follow him, almost as if she was either being charmed or simply wanted to go with the man. It was… unusual, to say the least. Roach did not like many people, and a stranger managed to gather her trust so easily. It made Geralt wary of what he was heading into. Nothing about the man seemed off, no magical signature to his scent, but… hmm.

While they moved along the dirt road, Geralt debated on how he should handle this… issue, if it was a genuine offer, that is. He could simply tell the king to fuck off, thought that might be a bad idea. Even if he didn’t like courts or royals very much, even he knew better than to piss off a king who hadn’t really done anything wrong at the moment. Well, nothing wrong other than forcing his son to marry some random person.

That’s a dick move, and even Geralt can see it.

It didn’t take long before they had come to the gates of the castle- when one says the town is small, that’s meant literally. “Halt! What business do you have here innkeep Halbert?” The guard speaking looked barely older than twenty seven, but the seriousness in his voice and near blank look on his face was rather out of place- it belonged on someone much older. Poor man must have seen hell before. “Ah, Renfic, my old friend, I bring you our new Lordship! This Witcher has slain the Banshee!” the innkeeper- Halbert apparently- explained in that same odd chipper voice that hadn’t left him since Geralt first came across him. How the fuck was someone so happy all the time?

The guard blinked a few times behind his steel visor of his helmet before giving the tiniest of smiles and gave a motion for the portcullis to be hoisted up. “Welcome. Cause no issue, even if you are a new Lord.” Renfic seemed to be just as emotionally constipated as Geralt, which was saying something.

Still a tad odd. Geralt was much older than Renfic, and yet… hmm. Something in this kingdom wasn’t as it seemed. Not by a long shot.  
With a deep breath, Geralt ushered Roach forward into the castle walls. Time to see how to get out of this utterly ridiculous offer.


	5. Some More wind up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> welp, not really up to what I wanted it to be, but Fuckall I'm trying! 
> 
> Today Geralt insults a King, makes a prince snort, and gets paid. Mostly.

It wasn’t easy for Geralt to allow a stablehand to take Roach to eat and be brushed down in the stables, but he did need to get this over with already. He kept the banshee head with him though, as Renfric guided him to where the king was waiting. It was apparently not the throne room, and instead a simple meeting room. Thank the gods for small miracles. The castle itself wasn’t obstinate or gaudy, though it did carry an air of antiquity throughout it’s halls. The entire place felt ancient, and yet, everything was well taken care of. Odd.

He was shown into the meeting room to see a few young men and one older man, all standing together. There were three of the young ones, all with curly brown hair and the same sort of air about them, regal and older than their physical ages- which seemed to range from 25 to 30 or so. Each had a different shade of eye color- grey, green, and blue- but all together they were obviously related. The older man barely had any gray in his hair, nor did he have crows feet, but he was clearly older than the other three. His eyes were also grey, and his hair the same shade of chestnut brown. All four wore regal clothing in shades of black, and each wore a circlet upon their brows- the elder sporting gold, while the younger men were sporting silver.

"Ah, I would presume that you are the one who slayed the Banshee?" The eldest man inquired once he noticed the witcher, stepping forward past the others and offering his hand to Geralt to shake. The king's hand was taken for only a moment, to hand him the cloth holding the Banshee's head. "Yes. I'll take just the gold if your grace would be so… kind."

One of the princes made a sound that came off as a snort. "Oh JuJu will be happ-" the man began, only to have one of his brothers elbow him sharply and hiss "Anthy shush!" Something here didn't quite seem normal, but if 'JuJu' meant the prince being offered, if the man didn't want to get married, it only solidified Geralt's stance. 

"Please, do not mind my sons. I do wonder though, why would you only want the monetary reward? The offer has been out for months and you only show your face days after the marriage promise for my son is offered as well." The king, Adverdal, questioned, even as he dropped the wrapped Banshee head onto the table without so much as a second glance. "... I had no idea about either offer. It attacked me, I killed it, I went to check if there was payment to be had. I don't want to marry your son, I don't need a title, and I certainly won't force myself into your family." 

Oh wow, eloquent for once isn't he?

"But-"

"Just pay me and I'll be out of your damn hair." Geralt all but snapped, his unease at being in this kingdom just rising higher and higher by the second. Something was wrong here, he could feel it, and the faster he got his gold and left the better he would be in the long run. The king looked put off, though the men Geralt assumed were his sons just looked ready to burst out laughing.

"Father, just pay the witcher and let him leave. If he wants just that for now, who are we to force him?" The one who'd snorted earlier spoke now butting in just as his father opened his mouth to speak. "Anthemon, I cannot just-"

"You wouldn't be going back on your word! Just say that the witcher may come back to collect the rest of his reward at a later time!" The prince, Anthemon, countered quickly. He seemed almost desperate beneath his court facade, and Geralt mentally gave him a stamp of approval. Anyone who fought for their family's right to not be forced into marriages was a good man in his books. 

Adverdal, on the other hand, was beginning to grate on Geralt's nerves. "I cannot have our people assuming I go bac-"

"Oh just fucking pay me before I grow too tired of your courtyard posturing." Geralt snapped, sending the other four men in the room into wide eyed sputtering. Well, make that three men. Anthemon seemed to find Geralt's statement hilarious.

It took a few moments before their royal bearing came back to them and Adverdal agreed with an angry wave of his hand. “Fine! Spurn my generosity!” he snapped, eyes blazing with annoyance as he stormed past Geralt like a spoiled child. The princes glanced among each other before Anthemon sighed and moved forward, scooping up a coin purse from the table and offering it to Geralt with a smile. “We thank you for your services to our kingdom, good witcher. Please, take this gold and some time to at least clean yourself and restock your needs before leaving us.”

Well, at least someone had manners.

Geralt nodded and took the purse without bothering to count it. Any coin was better than being forced to stay here any longer than he needed to. “... Thank you.” the witcher grumbled out before turning and exiting the room.

Once he was gone, the princes looked at each other critically. “So… who’s going to tell Julian he doesn’t have to get married?” the oldest asked, and the other two shrugged. Jacobi huffed in annoyance. “Well fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite my writer's block, I managed to get this mild chapter written up. its actually longer than most of my previous chapters, to my surprise, but hey, rambling helps with word count sometimes. 
> 
> I'm not really affected by the current COVID-19 issue, yet, so there's not going to be a sudden deluge of chapters because of quarantines. And even if there suddenly is, I've got babies to take care of and a husband who might end up catching the virus so there's another person to take care of. Meanwhile, life will just keep going on.
> 
> Additionally, I've realized that- for once- my usernames don't match! My tumblr and my AO3 aren't even the same, which threw me for a loop for a few moments when I realized that I'd used my newer screen name instead of my old go to. Anyway, if yall want to bother me at all beyond the confines of the reviews here, I can be found at seesea22 on tumblr!


	6. Dandy Man and Gruffiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment everyone's been waiting for- but also, completely not the moment.

It had taken a few hours of snipping and cutting and preening in the mirror before Julian was happy with his hair. Honestly, the man was made to be a diva, and what better to be a diva with than to become a bard? He flicked some of the remaining cut locks off of his shoulder and nodded happily. Beforehand he’d sported curly locks that went to his shoulders, and likely past his shoulder blades had those curls been straightened out. Now his hair lay rather flat upon his head, shorn short and close so that his curls had disappeared. 

He looked rather different now, which made him quite happy- he had no wish to be recognized by a damn soul anytime soon. There was no way he was getting married to some random person, and the only way to avoid it was to get the hell out of dodge before someone came for him. 

With a few more checks on his meager provisions and outfit, Julian climbed out of his window- like an idiot. He’d felt it was a smart idea, avoid people noticing him escaping, but he’d underestimated how utterly moronic this idea had been. The ivy strands that went up to his third story window weren’t all that strong, and while they might have held his weight a few years past, now he was a grown man. And they were certainly not going to hold a grown man that easily. Julian made it down about halfway before the ivy he’d been climbing down snapped, sending him tumbling into a few bushes. To his credit, the prince didn’t make a sound other than a soft ‘oof’ as he hit the shrubbery, and then he spent a few minutes climbing out of the shrubs. His clothing was now torn in a few places, and his face and hands had a good few scratches on them.

“Well, at least I look less like prince than I did a few minutes ago.” he muttered softly while he brushed the dirt off of himself and nodded, heading for the far side of the castle’s protective wall. He knew there was a small gap, hidden and just big enough for him to get through. Nobody but his brothers knew it was there, and it wasn’t likely that anyone else knew to guard it.

Julian slipped out of the crack in the wall with minimal physical damage or distress from it, and soon was on his merry way, trotting through the forest in a random direction, praying that he could get out of the kingdom before someone realized he was gone.

~*~

Geralt spent as little time in the castle as possible, gathering up his few provisions that he’d need from an overly helpful bunch of cooks in the kitchen and then rescuing Roach from the over affectionate stablehands who thought she was amazing. She was, of course, but it was odd that everyone seemed to be trying to keep him here, to get him to stay. Maybe they just really wanted a new noble, but Geralt was having none of that bullshit. No sir.

Eventually though, he did get himself back on the road, heading south for right now. Warmer climate and hopefully more monsters to kill, even though he’d just been paid, he’d rather get himself a nice cushion if he was able to really. It was only a smart thing to do.

Of course, he wasn’t quite sure what the hell he’d run into as far south as he planned on running bu-

His train of thought was cut off suddenly as Roach reared and stomped the ground angrily. Geralt frowned and looked around, only seeing some poor sod having been knocked over by a body check from his horse. “Who the fuck are you?” Geralt demanded, eyes narrowing at the scratched and torn looking young man who’d managed to get nearly trampled by Roach.

“Gods, could you look where you’re pointing that-” the man started to rant, but froze for a few seconds and shook his head. “Wait, no, I’m sorry. I’ve had a… long few days. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” The grey eyed man smiled brightly, and didn’t seem very deterred by the realization that Geralt was a witcher.

“Who are you?” Geralt demanded gruffly, yellow eyes narrowed at this beaten up looking young man. 

“Me? Oh I am…”

~*~

Seven hells below he hadn’t expected to slam into anyone already!

Julian had been optimistic, thinking that he’d get out of the kingdom and off onto a grand adventure and leave all of his family and life behind. What he hadn’t counted on was getting slammed into by a horse as he tried to get away.

The man he’d managed to run into didn’t seem all that happy to see him, but Julian suspected not many people would be anytime soon. For a few seconds Julian started to rant, but thought better of it- he wasn’t supposed to be a prince anymore, so he should be more polite! Yes!

“Wait, no, I’m sorry. I’ve had a… long few days. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” Julian corrected his mistake quickly, eyes flickering over the man and he… well he couldn’t help but smile.

The white haired man was beautiful, in a dangerous way. Sincerely, he seemed a right sight better than the person Julian was probably promised to. At least, that’s what he’d like to think. But, either way, Julian wasn’t going to be distracted by a pretty face!

Well, not too much anyway.

“Who are you?”

Oh, lovely pointed question that.

Julian resisted the urge to give a nervous laugh and began to answer, even though he had no earthly idea what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Me? Oh I am…” THINK JULIAN! For gods’ sake, don’t be an idiot about this! After a few moments he noted a stray flower that seemed to have been tucked into the man’s steed’s mane. A pretty dandelion. But the name would be too obvious, so he quickly thought of the flower’s name in that odd language his mother had taught him.

“I am Jaskier! Travelling bard and currently aah…” think of a good lie Jul- Jaskier!

“Well lets just say someone isn’t very amused by my dalliances recently and I do need to be moving quickly.” He motioned to his scratched face and torn clothing. “Who would you be my good sir?”

~*~

This bard seemed like he was full of shit. 

But, in Geralt’s opinion, most bards were full of shit.

“Hmm. Get out of my way bard.” Geralt said without much feeling as he spurred Roach past the man, ignoring the sputtering look of surprise on the other’s face. “I don’t have time for wayward bards right now.”

“Well someone’s had a piss in his tea” Geralt heard the bard mutter, and he had to mentally applaud the man’s balls. He at least had enough gumption to comeback at Geralt, even under his breath. 

But, for now, Geralt pushed Roach into a gallop, leaving the still moody looking bard behind him. He totally wouldn’t ever have to deal with him ever again, because Destiny wasn’t that much of bitch, was it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've worked so hard to try and get past this infernal writer's block, and apparently being both sick and hyperfocused thanks to adhd and coffee, I finally managed to bang something out overnight. I know this isn't how people would want their first meeting to go, but hey, poor first impressions are always fun... Right? I hope so, because I promise, the next meeting will be a bit better.
> 
> Fair warning though, I may be even slower with the next update because I'm trying to figure out how to allow for some sort of celebration- keeping with quarantine- for my son's birthday in two weeks. 
> 
> For now though, I ask for the blessings of whoever you can think of, because without them I probably wont be able to make myself write for another two weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the beginning. I wrote it in like twenty minutes because I knew if I didn't I'd never get it done. I promise the later chapters will certainly be longer!


End file.
